Bloodrush III: Wars with Ghosts
by Mister Vix
Summary: Set five years after Bloodrush II. It almost seems too good to be true; Zero and X can finally calm down a little. Of course, once the big problems are gone, little ones always seem to crop up...
1. Chapter 1: The Better Return

Bloodrush III: Wars with Ghosts

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Disclaimer: I do not own Megaman or Megaman-X. I do own my original characters.

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Chapter 1:  
The Better Return

* * *

Author's Notes: Welcome, one and all, to Bloodrush III! I do so hope you enjoy this third installment in the series. In fact, to reward all you faithful folks who've been hanging around, I'm actually going to have a few pleasent events for our characters. I'm _also_ gonna be delving a bit deeper into X/Zero stuff, because Siren has started making threats.  
...of course, peace is eternally temporary. It's just the calm before the storm, friends. And it's gonna be a big'un.

* * *

"Y'know, it's been awhile since anything really weird happened. I'm beginning to wonder what's up," Zero said suddenly. X, snuggled up against the blonde under the thick covers of their bed, mumbled something noncommittal. "Not like I'm complaining, or anything. It's just that, freakish events seemed to sorta follow us around, then poof, five years and nothin' happens at all..." The Blue opened one emerald eye, looking up at Zero, who was staring off into space, musing. It had taken a full year for the Red to completely recover his memory, but afterwards things had calmed down, except for when Bass occasionally knocked down Michael's door. For the most part, the troupe of reploids were welcome at the human mechanic's house anytime they felt like dropping by, which was fairly often. Things weren't _completely_ quiet, of course; Zcix had all the habits of a stray tom cat, including the tendancy to get into fights he couldn't finish on his own. It was always slightly strange to X, having such a bizarre copy of his lover running around, but Zero seemed to just take it all in stride.

"Don't jinx it," the Blue said after a moment, smiling sleepily. The blonde snickered, then sat up, that considering look still on his face.

"Hey...uh...X...?" he said after a moment, and the shorter reploid pushed himself up as well, looking at Zero curiously.

"Yeah?" he prompted when the Red was silent for a long moment.

"Um...y'know...hm," Zero mumbled, now staring down at the blankets, brow furrowed, clearly trying to think up a good way to word whatever he was trying to say. X remained silent, waiting, and finally the blonde looked up at him. "Well, you know how I'm built just as well as _I_ do by now, so you know the differences from how _you're_ built. Aaaaannnd...well...um..." Again he struggled to think of the right way to say it, but X solved the dilemma for him when a look of comprehension dawned in his emerald eyes.

"Oh," was what he said, going slightly red in the face. Zero had as well, once again watching the blankets intently, so that was no big deal. Then the Blue snickered. "Zero's feeling a little _frustrated?_"

"It's not my fault, you little bastard!" the blonde snapped, frowning. X just grinned at him.

"I know. Not your fault your creator was a perverted old man and mine wasn't," he laughed, and Zero sighed in vexation at the Blue's teasing. He couldn't help the fact that Wily had, for whatever insane reason, built him fully complete in a way that most reploids were not. And it's a given that when something is capable of sexual activity, it's only a matter of time before basic desires kick in.

"Well, we can fix that, you know," the blonde said, and now it was his turn to grin at the shade X's face turned. "There's heaps of mechanics you can pay for modifications of any sort." The Blue worked his mouth silently for a few minutes.

"Uh..err..." he said at last, not at all sure how to respond to _that_. Of course, there was a major hitch in Zero's plan. "We don't have any money."

"I doubt that'll be much of a problem," the Red replied, clearly not concerned. "We've got at least one good connection with Michael—it's a given that he knows at least a few of the types of mechanics who make those mods—and others'll undoubtably pop up. But we have to get looking for a good one, so we may as well start!" Zero was up in an instant, grabbing a black long-sleeved shirt from the back of a chair, and exchanging his shorts in favor of some rather worn jeans. X, however, paused, still sitting on the bed.

"Well, we don't _really_ need to get me...modified..." he said finally, just when Zero thought he might've gone back to sleep or something of the like. The blonde snorted.

"I may be an asshole, but I'm not _that_ much of an asshole. I mean, you can't tell me you don't wanna have any _fun_, X!" he snickered, and the Blue once again went red in the face.

"Well...I dunno..." he murmured, but he did get up and get dressed. The two had left the mostly-empty building, out into the pre-dawn chill.

X still wasn't sure about the whole thing, himself. He supposed he had to admit that he was a bit frightened, but he knew that was stupid—what did he have to be frightened of? It wasn't like Zero was going to _hurt_ him, he was pretty sure that the Red had more self-control than that. It was just...well, he'd never even considered anything of that sort before. It was a completely new concept and...

...he shook his head.

_I'm just gonna work myself into a panic this way..._

* * *

_Click-clickick. Click-clickick. Click-clickick._ Uneven footsteps that made this place's haunted melody, but now something was changing. Now the monotonous sound was nearer the surface, approaching the place where light seeped in through the doors and shattered windows. That disjointed, uncertain voice, sounding almost timid against the now-fading dark. Talking to no one.

"It's not yet time...but...maybe I... ...impatient..."

* * *

"Marvellous, marvellous!" bellowed the reploid, swinging her arms out wide joyfully. "We've finally got our heads on straight! Now let's fucking _find_ our missing friends! Trikker, go get our dear sneak and set him on Zero's trail, will you?" The dragon reploid grinned toothily, and the much-smaller mechanic twitched his ears. The rat reploid named Trikker nodded after a moment.

"Sure thing."

* * *

"Nn...eh...?" Zcix opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the slow light of gray dawn. He wondered idly where he was—as far as he remembered, he'd gone to sleep on the roof of an abandoned truck, not laying sprawled in the middle of the empty street—but he wasn't all too concerned about it. For the most part, he was more worried about the stranger standing over him, pink-red, bulbous eyes staring into his own in confusion.

"Hi," he said, sitting up. The strange lizard-reploid backed away far enough for Zcix to stand.

"You...urr...you can't be..." the chameleon chirped, obviously perturbed by something. Zcix just smiled at him.

"I'm not Zero, if that's what's bothering you," he said. "I think he's still back in his place with X."

"Ah," the lizard replied, soudning relieved. "Can you perhaps point the way? I'm looking for him." Zcix shook his head, the smile unmoved.

"Sorry, but a lot of the people looking for Zero aren't very friendly. I coudl ask him about you, though, and see if he'd be willing to meet with you. Hey, I feel like somebody's agent! What's your name?"

"Ah...tell him Sting Chameleon wants to talk to him," the stranger said. "Tell him if he wants to find me, I'll be near the north skyscraper, the one that burned down last year." He faded away, seemingly vanishing. A slight distortion in the air, and the sound of swiftly receding footsteps informed Zcix the truth of the lizard's stealth.

"Sting..." he murmured, brow furrowing. He was certain he remembered that name, one of those foggy, disjointed memories from a time long past. The remnants of Zero's memories still bouncing around inside his skull.

But it was no use, he couldn't capture what was so significant about the name, so he shrugged and started heading in a randomly-chosen direction. Until he found out where in the city he was, he couldn't very well find his way back to Zero and X's place.

* * *

"Damn it," Zero growled, thoroughly annoyed. A full hour of scouting around had found nothing at all. X remained silent, still unnerved. When the blonde made to double back, however, the Blue finally spoke up.

"Umm...Zero...maybe we can...wait and think about this a little while...?" he murmured, halfway between hoping the Red hadn't heard him and hoping he had. Zero looked back at the smaller reploid, curious.

"..y'scared, X?" he asked at last. His voice wasn't mocking, but wasn't quite serious, either. Emerald eyes widened in surprised, immediate denial.

"N-no...! ...um...I...maybe...I don't know..." he sighed. "I'm just...not sure about any of it. I mean, I it before...I mean..."

"Yeah," Zero said, cutting off X's faltering speech. "Well." His impatient annoyance had subsided, and now he just stood, uncertain. Maybe even slightly embarrassed at himself. "Yeah." He shrugged. "I'm just better at jumping into things..."

"I know that by now," X replied, now chuckling at the blonde. He just couldn't resist doing that. "I just wish you wouldn't make _me_ jump into things." Zero folded his arms behind him and shifted his feet, staring at the cracked pavement, for all the world like a scolded child.

"Sorry," he said at last, and it was enough. No need for them to go on and on about it—at least not right now, in the middle of a dirty street. They wouldn't have had the chance to anyway, as at that moment Zcix landed on the ground between them, having jumped from a nereby rooftop. He sprang up again like a cat, pouncing Zero and pinning him to the asphault, a broad grin in place.

"Hey!" the slightly psychotic copy laughed cheerfully. "I found you! I been looking for you for a while. Bass said you'd gone out somewhere he didn't know."

"Zcix, get offa me!" Zero growled, shoving his maniac duplicate away. The black-haired version of himself giggled and sat on the ground, waving at X before focusing his attention back on the Red.

"Somebody was looking to talk to you, Zero," he said. "They told me their name was Sting Chameleon."

The reacion was very odd, it seemed to Zcix. Zero's eyes went wide, and X made an odd noise of disbelieving surprise.

"X..." Zero said after a moment of silence, "...didn't you say that Sting died a long time ago...?" The Blue nodded.

"I mean, I never saw his body, but then, I never looked for it. He never showed up again...I would've thought that if any of them were still alive, they would've at least said hi once in a while..." Zero nodded. He himself hadn't been alive after the fortress attack to take roll call, so he didn't really know, but what X said made sense. The former Mavericks had had nothing at all to hold on to, save each other; it would make sense that any survivors would try to group together.

"Well, I just know he was a green, red-eyed lizard," Zcix offered into the following quiet, standing up. "And he really rang a bell, but I don't know if I rightly remember."

"Sting was a Maverick," Zero informed his unfortunate copy. "He was the closest thing I had to a friend before me'n X started to get along. That's why you'd remember him..."

"Oh," was Zcix's simple reply. "Well, he said you could find him by the northern skyscraper if you wanted to talk. The one that burned down." He was up and wandering away, his message delivered and his frightfully fickle attention span reaching its previously undetermined end. The two more sane reploids watched him go.

"You coming, X?" Zero asked at last.

"Do you even need to ask?" was the response.

"Could be a trap..."

"Zcix recognized him. He may be messed up, but he's still got your memories."

"Remember what Reapa did to me?"

"...yeah...but we've gotta go."

"Yup."


	2. Chapter 2: And She Smiled at Me

Bloodrush III: Wars with Ghosts

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Chapter 2:  
And She Smiled at Me

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Author's Notes: We have something totally different in this chapter; a section written in first-person! Wah! Totally unimportant changes for my own personal amusement! Characters doing personality 180s! _When will the madness end?!_ Never, if I get my way.  
Go go go, reviewers Imbri of the Moon, Iniora Nackatori, Yuki, and Crystalstorm21! _For great justice!!!  
_Can you tell I had caffiene?! I need to shut up before I accidentally spoil something, yuh...

* * *

Zero was humming something endlessly. X was stewing over his own thoughts, whatever they might've been this time. They were inspecting the area in and around the tower of mostly-rubble. Rain had washed away most of the soot and shattered glass, but chunks of corroded metal and crumbling stone still littered the area. There was no sign of any life at all, let alone a large, mechanical chameleon.

"Huh. A no-show. I feel stood-up," Zero muttered, kicking a piece of shrapnel across the empty street. X, however, wasn't paying much attention. Instead, he pointed wordlessly up towards the top of the ruined building.

"He's up there," the Blue informed, once Zero actually noticed his pointing. As though the statement had been some sort of incantation, the green reploid appeared out of thin air, leaping down and landing lightly as was possible for someone made of metal.

"Hey, Zero, long time no see," he greeted the Red. "Skip the quizzing, please, I didn't study. I need you to follow me. All questions will be answered." He paused. "Yes, I _am_ the real Sting, and I _am_ back from the dead, not a ghost."

"How?" was all X could say. The chameleon chirruped at him, clearly annoyed.

"I _said_, all questions will be answered, but in due time! Not now!" he replied, scampering away. X looked at Zero, who shrugged, and the pair followed after the reptillian machine.

* * *

"Hello, hello, hello!" roared Aerthin Dorackin the Fifth, swinging her thin arms out wide, purple scales as vivid as ever, acid-green mane tossing about and getting tangled in copper antlers. She grinned toothily at the astonished X and Zero. "It's not the circus, but it's damn close! We've got enough _fools_, anway." She grabbed the pair of reploids by the arms, dragging them deeper into the strange place she was apparently residing in. "C'mon in, fellas! I'd offer ye somethin', but we're all outta the good stuff and I wouldn't waste yer time with the crap that's still in the fridge." She kept up a steady stream of such harmless chatter, conveniently drowning out all of X and Zero's attempts to question her. Until she managed to drag the pair deep into the labyrinth-like place—apparently some sort of compound which had been built mostly underground—neither of the human-based reploids could get a word in edgewise. Finally Aerthin went silent, just grinning, standing in an area that was pitch black save for the green light which shone from her eyes. Then a voice from somewhere in the darkness shouted,

"Lights!" and the blackness was dispelled as the ceiling lights burst to life, flooding the broad room with light. X and Zero blinked, amazed at what they saw.

The Maverick Generals. All of them. Storm and Sting, Boomer and Launch, Armored and Spark, Flame and Chill. True, some of them looked radically different from how they once had; Storm Eagle was no longer an eagle, but rather a humanoid reploid with broad, indigo wings arching from his shoulders, casually dressed and standing with arms crossed, his indigo hair cut short. He was the most radically altered; the rest, at least, still resembled their namesake animal, though in somewhat different colorscheme or form than they had been in their past life.

"Hello, X," said the one reploid in the room which the Red did not immediately recognize, a small, rat-based fellow. "It's certainly been a while, hasn't it?" Zero arched an eyebrow.

"I assume you plan to explain all this?" was all he said, and the rat grinned.

"But of course! My name is Trikker. You wouldn't recognize it; it's a more recent name than what you'd remember. You might know my old one though...from before my...um...renovation? Revelation? Whatever you'd call it." X's eyes widened slightly.

"Wait...a...sec..." the Blue hissed, his expression disbelieving. Trikker nodded.

"My name used to be Sharded Wolf," he grinned at the faces X and Zero wore: utter disbelief, confusion, amazement. "Just let me tell my little tale, and you might understand better."

* * *

I opened my eyes to darkness. A darkness blacker than death; a darkness born of nothing. I closed my eyes again quickly, unwilling to face it; I suppose I was afraid.

I didn't remember anything. My name, who I was, where I'd come from, how I'd gotten here...everything was lost, sacrificed for a sort of false tranquility. As long as I couldn't remember, I couldn't be upset. My mind knew that even if I didn't, and that was all that mattered; that fragile, thin, deceiving screen of deceptive calm. It couldn't last long. I knew that. Even while I didn't know that the temporary loss of my self was the cause of that peace, I knew that it was a fleeting thing, easily crushed just by a chance puff of a breeze.

Well, there was no light wind here. There was a hurricane, and it ripped apart my transparent little sanctuary, cut apart the crushing black and bared me to the world. I remembered the things I had done, I remember the things that had been done to me. I remembered that I was supposed to be dead. I remembered that I had killed someone else first, but not the right person; no, the person I had desired most had been the one to slay me. They'd slipped right through my claws again, just as they had the first time.

I remembered, but it was all far away. It was another life ago. It belonged to another person. I wondered, had it really been me, who was filled with such a boiling hatred that I would drive myself into such things, just to see someone's blood spilled? Had it really been myself who had torn open that other reploid? Or was it as I felt, some stranger speaking his tales of bitter, agonized rage, whispering in my ear and making me see what he had seen.

Despite my wonderings, I supposed it was me. That was the only way I could have acquired such memories. But though I remembered everything from my far-off standpoint, I could not recall honestly _doing_ any of it. I could remember it _being done_, but as though it had happened in a film I had watched, one which happens to be shot from the character's point of view. Just a quiet recollection of a film which no longer seemed so interesting as it once had.

I felt very cold. Cold and tired. Twisting, turning, I tried to discern the boundaries of my new prison; but all I could see were bars of light and dark, intersecting in areas of fog-gray, crossing and crossing again, onwards for eternity. I had no idea where I might be.

Finally something changed. There was a low beeping sound from somewhere near, somewhere I couldn't see but I could feel. When I stretched out my paws, I realized I could still feel the real world outside my black-and-white prison; I could still touch and grasp a hold on things that actually existed. Maybe, I thought, maybe it would allow me to escape from this stark cell. Twisting and turn, writhing and clawing, trying to escape, nothing seemed to stay for long enough; things slipped through my fingers, my claws could not grip tightly enough to hold on. Stubborn, I thrashed against the intangible bars, biting and clawing, and suddenly they gave way.

It was too much at first; I snapped my eyes shut, growling lowly. The return to actual reality was not a pleasent one; my head ached terribly, and my body trembled against my will. Slowly, this time, I opened my eyes once again, and found myself staring at a place that was most dull gray.

"Welcome back," said someone. Immediately I shifted, rolling off of my back and onto all fours, afraid of being caught in such a vulnerable state but not yet in good enough condition to attain a proper stance. "Don't be frightened." My first impulse was to laugh at that; the sound I made was more of a hoarse cough. I didn't think I could speak; the only noises I seemed capable of making were rasping, scratchy snarls, and so I fell silent. Now looking around the room I was in, I discovered little of importance; consoles covered with incomprehencable symbol-ridden buttons, flourescent lights striping the drab ceiling, a floor that seemed more like concrete than anything suitable to be indoors. The place was cold, as well; it wasn't just me. The other person in the room was shivering as well.

"Who are you?" I asked at last, and though the words were rough, they came out understandibly enough for her to answer.

"Just a person interested in giving folks a second chance," she replied, smiling at me. I blinked. By all appearances she was human, with thick blonde hair that fell to her waist, and almost neon blue eyes. I worked my mouth silently for a moment, before I looked down at myself for the first time.

"What did you do to me?!" I demanded in a gasping, choked voice. My body was as the one you see now; long gone was the strength of Sharded Wolf, replaced with the lithe, twitching form of a rodent.

"I'm afraid that, much as I'd like to believe you'll be different this time around, it was dangerous to put you back in your original body," the woman replied, quiet but very decisive. "I've been studying reploids and all their quirks, and I've found out things that most people would never think of. The more distant you are from your previous life, the easier it will be for you to start over. I didn't think you'd appreciate a human form, though, so..."

"You turned me into a rat," I accused, and now my voice was acquiring a sort of normalicy for itself; the voice I speak to you in now.

"Yes," she answered simply, and that Goddamned smile never faltered. I felt very certain that, had I been the old Sharded Wolf, I would have killed her already.

...but I was so disconnected from that reploid which I'd once been...

"What _else_ did you do to me?" for I was certain that such a change could not have occured within my mind just randomly. Other reploids have been resurrected in bodies of their own, out of necessity, and they usually turn out mostly the same as they had been. Now she looked away at last, lowering her eyes to the floor as though ashamed.

"I...had to try some of my new ideas. I know I shouldn't have done it, especially because you had no say...but..." and now she looked up at me, and her neon eyes were absolutely afire. "My uncle had no say in what you did to him, either, so I figured that I owed you an unfair turn." I blinked at this strange almost-accusation.

"Your...uncle...?" I asked, confused. Who was she talking about...?

"Don't play stupid, Wolf," and now she was angry, her eyes flashing, her jaw setting. "Dr. Cain." My own eyes went wide.

"That was a long time ago...!" I don't know why I even bothered. She wouldn't care how long ago it was, even if a thousand years had somehow passed between now and then. All she cared was that I had been the one to kill the man.

Looking back on it, I felt no regret. Some slight disgust, perhaps contempt for the pitifully weak creature that Sharded Wolf had been; but no guilt over taking the human's life, no guilt over any of the other atrocities I had commited. I was no longer that person, so why should I feel responsible for the actions of another?

"Fine. But you still haven't explained anything of what you've done," I said at last, after an extended silence. Her anger had hardly abated, but something else was fighting for dominance in her eyes; she turned away, now refusing to look at me. I waited. I knew she would answer me sooner or later.

"Sometimes, when a reploid's control chip becomes slightly damaged, but not to the point where it is beyond hope of recovery, the reploid will be altered when they are resurrected. Their personality, their skills, everything about them may've changed entirely, for better or worse; often for worse, because the change is unbalanced and usually they have a hard time remembering things. But I wondered, if all it takes is a slight scratch to completely alter who a reploid is, what if it were possible to try and control those changes? To deliberately make a reploid with a desirable personality? Now, you must understand; I do not intend to have anything to do with controlling reploids, making ones which are subservient to humans. That would defeat the whole purpose of having reploids. But what if it could be used for those reploids which become criminally insane? Ones like you. I salvaged your chip from the empty CyberCerebellum halls before the place was demolished, and decided to see what would happen..." I had nothing to say to any of it. Completely altering my personality? It was so strange, to think this woman—I still do not know her name—had utterly changed who I was. Eventually, she began to shift her feet, clearly getting tired of my extensive silence.

"What do I do now?" my question seemed to surprise her, coming from nowhere as it did. She whirled around, eyes wide, mouth partially open, as though she'd been thinking of saying something just before I did but hadn't gotten the chance.

"...make your own life, I suppose," she replied, looking away yet again. She seemed very reluctant to meet my eyes now. "As far as I can tell, I've succeeded in what I was aiming to do; prove, to myself, that anyone can be given a second chance..." Now she looked up and smiled, much as she had earlier. It struck me suddenly how strong of a person she must be, to smile at one she must despise so utterly. Even if it was a slightly...pitying smile. "I'm leaving here, so you can use this place as your own for now on. Consider it something of a birthday gift." And she walked away.

* * *

Sharded Wolf folded his thin paws, opening his small, sparkling eyes at last after telling his tale. Utter silence filled the room. He watched his speechless audience—X and Zero—with some slight amusement.

"I never saw her again after that, despite the way I wandered about, collecting all the bits and pieces I could of the old Mavericks, intent on reviving them, giving them their second chances," he informed them after a few minutes. "Maybe just what she did to me, to my mind, changed me...but there is something profound about being face to face with a person like that. A human, so fragile, easily snapped in half and forgotten. They don't live long, and they must pour blood and sweat into anything they wish to accomplish, only to in the end die and lose everything they've achieved, in the often vain hope that they've made some mark on this world. And yet they can be more fearless than any beast, than any machine, more courageous than any of the legends they recite." He caught X's gaze with his own, deep, demonic maroon locking firmly with brilliant emerald green. "I killed that girl's on an arbitrary whim, for no other reason than to get a giggle from it. I murdered dozens just to sate my own petty lust for blood. And she smiled at me."

* * *

Ending Author's Note: Hey! Well whattayaknow! I'm actually writing an endnote! I didn't want to ruin anything by saying this up top.

WAH. Sharded Wolf reveals his true self—_an utter windbag._ Seriously. Who would've thought that monster could be so eloquent?

Truth is, I was having fun writing in first-person. I don't do it often and don't consider myself very good at it, but it's fun to just have a little bit here and there. I ramble alot when writing in first person, but hey, rambling's often as fun to read as it is to write. For me, anyway. Topic is such a hard horse to hold onto...


	3. Chapter 3: Slow Spelling Out

**Bloodrush III: Wars with Ghosts**

* * *

Chapter 3:  
Slow Spelling Out

* * *

Author's Notes:  
This took a long time. This chapter hated me and wanted me to die. But I beat it into submission.  
Go my patient (or possibly not so patient) reviewers! Crystalstorm21, Imbri of the Moon, Yuki, and neox 22xx!

* * *

"Most of the Maverick General's bodies were not in top shape, as you surely must have realized," Trikker informed, walking down a hall in the labyrinth, X and Zero following him. "Bowed and broken, mangled..." He sighed, shaking his head. "It was a little difficult to tell what piece belonged to what reploid at times, thus they didn't come out looking quite like they had. Storm Eagle certainly got the worst of it...I was a bit worried he might not be pleased that I'd so altered him, but he hasn't complained yet so I guess I'm safe. Now! I've told most of my tale, so what's been going on with you two? I know you were dead for at least awhile, Zero; either that, or you're amazing to survive being skewered like that."

"Yeah, I didn't outlive that one," he replied casually. "Sure went through Hell over that, too." Trikker did not seem the least bit uncomfortable, even though it was very likely that Zero would simply whirl about and kill him on the spot. X shook his head; he could hardly even think of this rat-reploid as having once being the horrible, fearsome Sharded Wolf. It just didn't click; he was so utterly different. The only thing that remained was that he seemed...

...unsettled, was the best word for it. Like he not only didn't feel like he belonged, but he didn't _want_ to belong. He was the outsider who had made himself at home but was surrounded by strangers. He'd always been that way, even towards the few friends he'd had before abandoning the Maverick Sigma. That loner, drifter attitude had not changed.

* * *

"What...? But...it's too _early_...but...oh...please, please, _please_...no...too early...wait, please?" the person spoke only to himself, but he was content with that. Sitting on the roof of Wily's ancient lab, sitting and swinging his legs back and forth like an impatient child, staring off towards something unseen, his long, deep blue hair whipping around his face unkemptly, wrapping around his sloping, thin, silver horns.

He was coated in dust, head to foot. Dust and cobwebs, layered thickly over his metal body, his oddly-designed armor that left his forarms and hands bare, obscuring the light-swallowing black into more of an ashy gray. His tail, made in the spaded fashion of a demon, snapped against the stones in rythm with his swinging feet. Aside from the tail and horns, his appearance was human enough, a young teenage male with aqua eyes and deeply tanned skin, his face set in a curious, vague expression. "Oh, please, it's too early, wait, wait...um...but...oh..."

* * *

Bass knew _something_ was going on, he just didn't know what, exactly. There seemed to simply be something ominous about the day.

Or maybe it was just because he'd suddenly hit an all-time-low for a bad mood. Folded into a back corner of the decrepit building, wrapped in Zcix's cloak—Zcix had given it to him, apparently deciding that the Ebony might somehow have some use for it—he kept his flat-crimson eyes closed, his mouth drawn down into a harsh frown. As far as what had caused his wretched mood, he had no idea. ...well, alright, maybe he did have an idea. But he didn't think it was right.

After all, he'd never been lonely before, and he'd spent almost all his time holed up somewhere all by himself. Why would he suddenly feel annoyed that everyone else had run off and left him here all alone?

He would much rather believe that there was something bad in the air that was causing him to get irritable. It was unnatural that they'd gone so long without being troubled by bloodthirsty enemies and supernatural freaks, after all.

* * *

Michael Uther was just cleaning up the spills left by the last reploid who he'd repaired; the girl had been pretty trashed, and her blood was in a large pool on the repair table, as well as in a long streak on the floor. He was silent as he worked, preoccupied with his own thoughts, but he did make a noise when someone suddenly stepped in front of him and, without so much as a "hello," lifted him up into the air by his shirt collar.

"Blues...!" he gasped out, addressing the machine who he hadn't seen for near five years. Blues grinned back at him, lifting his shades, pale eyes staring past him at nothing.

"Hi, Mike," he hissed. "Got all buddy-buddy with X and Zero, have you? Bass and Zcix too. My, my. How the mighty have fallen."

"Blues, I thought we settled all this a long time ago," Michael's voice was annoyed, and he furrowed his brow, glaring at the blind machine. Blue snickered and shook his head.

"I let it lie for a while, but I've thought it over, and I've decided that the only good punishment for treason is death." That was the only warning Michael was given before he was thrown down against the ground with enough force to shatter most of the bones in his body, including his neck and skull.

Blues walked out the door wearing a little smirk.

And walked straight into Zcix, who had been standing, silent as a ghost, just outside. The copy-Zero frowned at Blues.

"I don't think you should have done that," he informed him, before giving the smaller machine a solid kick, sending him flying backwards, straight through the front door, which was turned into slivers. Blues was up on his feet in no time, snarling.

"Zcix," he growled, "of course you would show up again."

"Aaaw," Zcix hummed, sounding genuinely regretful, "aren't you glad to see me? I hope not. I don't like you very much." He pounced on Blues, who was out of the way before he had even gotten off the ground, and the clone reploid suddenly found himself sprawled on the ground, since Blues had thrown his landing off by kicking him while he was still in the air. A swift twist and the black-haired version of Zero was up standing again and grabbing Blues' wrist when the robot attempted to clock him from behind, flipping him forward over his shoulder and then delivering a sharp kick to his head which missed by bare inches when the maroon-clad machine rolled away, coming quickly to his feet. Zcix giggled, curling his fingers like claws, and jumped on Blues, who was not fast enough to avoid it this time and was sent sprawling, pinned beneath the stray reploid. Drawing back his fist, Zcix grinned at Blues, even though he couldn't see it.

Then something ruined the moment of victory by plowing straight through the wall. A large, black something, with wings. A something that was supposed to've been dead, though Zcix didn't remember that.

A something whose name was Harpy.

Harpy plowed straight into Zcix, knocking him through the next wall, tumbling head-over-heels, screeching and cawing as she thrashed her wings, attempting to disentangle herself from the other reploid. Once she had managed that, she looked down at the machine she'd pinned, her eyes changing to a triumphant gold. Then they changed quickly to a confused, muddled gray.

"Hey, you're not Zero!" she announced intelligently, screeing softly in bafflement. "Zero didn't have black hair!"

"No shit," Zcix growled, shoving the bird off of him. She went down in a poorly-balanced heap, tripping over a bit of destroyed wall. Zcix looked past her, but Blues was gone. "Damn! You let him get away!"

"Who? The little fellow you were beating the living daylights out of?" she questioned, tilting her head to one side and blinking at him. Her eyes shifted to blue. "Hey, if you're not Zero, who are you? Why do you look so much like him? I only saw you for a second before you went inside, and I thought you were him 'cuz I didn't get a good enough look!"

"I'm Zcix," he answered, still staring at where Blues had been as though he could make him come back so he could finish beating him up. "I'm Zero's copy." Harpy blinked.

"Oh. Well, I guess I could still kill you then," she said, but she didn't sound too certain of it. "I mean, it was Zero I was looking for, but if you're his _copy_, I guess that sort of makes you him anyway, huh?" Zcix looked at the bird and figured her reasoning was sound enough, though he did see a flaw in her plan.

"You're not gonna kill me," he said, smiling at her, his voice perfectly friendly. "Don't try it, 'kay?"

"'Kay," she said. "You're not really Zero, so I'll let you alone. Do you know where he is?"

"Nope," Zcix replied, shaking his head. "He went off somewhere with X."

"Oh," Harpy's eyes turned a dejected green, and Zcix laughed at her.

"I think you should give up on getting him, no one else's been able to for a long time," he suggested, but she gave him a very serious look, her eyes turning purple.

"I have to!"

"Why d'you have to?"

"'Cuz. Master said so."

"Who's Master?"

"My Master, duh!"

"Is his name just Master?"

"No, of course not. His name's Wheruvan or something," she nodded sagely at this show of knowledge, but Zcix's expression went flatly stunned.

"Wheruvan? But Wheruvan's dead! He got killed a while back!" the copy-Zero said loudly, but Harpy chuckled.

"Well, Zero got killed too but he's not dead anymore."

"But Zero's a reploid! Wheruvan wasn't a reploid!"

"But he's not human."

"So? He still wasn't a reploid!"

"He has his ways."

"That doesn't answer anything."

"It answers enough that you can stop asking questions," Harpy was now sounding annoyed, crossing her arms, her eyes turning a dark orange. The changing eye color seemed to make up for the fact that the beak distorting her face made her incapable of proper facial expressions. Zcix shook his head.

"Well, Wheruvan may say you have to kill Zero, but I say I have to kill Wheruvan, so there," he said, crossing his arms as well and looking at her defiantly. She snorted at him, fluttering her wings.

"Fine! Be that way!"

"I will!"

"See if I care!"

"I don't want you to!"

"Good, because I don't!"

"That's fine by me!"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"I told you first!"

"I told you second!"

"Second doesn't count!"

"Yeah it does!"

"Second place is only the first loser!"

"That's better than being the one who started it!"

"And I'm gonna finish it too!"

"Try me!"

"I will!"

It degenerated into a rediculously childish brawl, the two crack-brained reploids shouting insults of all sorts at one another, ranging from terrible curses to three-year-old names, beating each other senseless until both layed in the wreckage of the house, panting, glaring at each other. Blood was streaming from numerous gouges in Zcix's body—Harpy had talons, which he did not—and Harpy's wings were both snapped, her armor dented in and ripped away in places.

"Hah! You couldn't even beat me!" Harpy crowed weakly, pointing at him with a blood-smeared talon. He snorted at her.

"You couldn't beat me either," Zcix retorted, wiping the blood out of his eyes. The two reploids watched one another, and if looks could kill, they both would've been incinerated. After a while, Harpy turned her beak up haughtily.

"I don't have _time_ for this!" she said, her voice thick with disdain, her eyes turning harsh yellow. She stood up, walking away, and Zcix got up as well.

"See if you have any for _this!_" he shouted after her, chucking a piece of sharp-ended rubble, which struck her a ringing blow in the back of the head, crunching her metallic skull inwards with a rent-metal sound, and she toppled to the ground, motionless. He blinked, trotting over to her, to discover that she was glaring at him with such intensity he shrunk away, her eyes a deep, furious ruby-red. Slowly, she stood, shaking her head, her ragged white hair matted with black-and-crimson blood.

"I'll make you pay for that," she hissed, clicking her beak, but Zcix was distracted by something else that made him look suddenly away to the left, and Harpy, blinking in confusion, followed his gaze. She couldn't see a thing, but Zcix suddenly started running in that direction, his eyes wide and intent. "Hey! Stop! I have to make you pay! _Hey! Come back here, you jerk!_"


	4. Chapter 4: Hellspinner

**Bloodrush III: Wars with Ghosts**

* * *

Chapter 4:   
Hellspinner

* * *

Author's Notes:   
This is terrible. I have been so awful to all of you. Can you ever forgive me? I really try, I do, but sometimes stories just don't want to be written. I've been fighting with this for a long time, and it's apart at the seams, mostly. But I think I can do it. Maybe I can do it.

* * *

Zcix really didn't know where he was going, or why, which was probably why he quickly lost all sense of direction, eventually stopping in some place he probably had been before but didn't recognize in the least.

Still, getting himself lost had at least accomplished one thing; Harpy had also lost him, so he could pause to consider the brand-new mess in his head. Casting his gaze around continuously, hardly thinking about the fact that he was still somewhat torn up from his spat with Harpy, he paced, trying to sort through his thoughts.

"Blues is bad and he killed Michael—Wheruvan's back and sending people to hunt down Zero—Blues is gonna try to kill Zero too—ooh boy, I'd better tell Bass—and there's—oh what is that?—shut up how should I know?—g'ah shu'up—no way—gyahahaha! I'm having an argument with myself again! Wooh!" the copy cackled psychotically, dashing away in a randomly chosen direction. Maybe he would get some orientation so he could find his way back to the place where Bass was staying!

Harpy, staring from the shadows between two buildings, shook her head slowly, her eyes wide. "He's totally crackers!"

* * *

"Aside from the constant barrage of freaks who want to murder me for one reason or another, not alot's been happening in more recent times..." Zero kept his half-lidded gaze on Sharded, but the rat didn't seem to be bothered. Either brave, or totally oblivious to the intense danger he was in.

X wasn't sure what, exactly, he would do if Zero _did_ attack the reploid; he didn't think he would react quickly enough to accomplish anything anyway.

Zero, however, had a different idea than just pouncing the reploid and tearing him to pieces. "So, Shards, I know you've been waiting for thus 'un—you know I'm not about to let you off the hook, right?" he asked calmly, and the rat nodded with equal composure.

"Yes, of course," he said, and X just looked blankly at the two of them. How could they be so collected when discussing the fact that one was about to kill the other?

Then Zero grinned, looking over at X. "Whattayasay, X? You hold him while I beat the li'l fucker?" The Blue remained silent, and the blonde shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The situation immediately following was odd in a violent sort of way. Sharded attempted to bolt, but Zero caught his hairless tail and threw him backwards into the wall, pouncing on him before he had a chance to recover. He drove his fist into the rodent's gut, resulting in a high-pitched, squealing shriek, then smashed his elbow down on the back of the doubled-over reploid's narrow skull. As soon as Sharded hit the ground, Zero dug the toe of his boot under the rat machine's ribs, flipping him onto his back and planting his foot in his stomache. The rat-tail flailed uselessly, lashing Zero across the back but causing no harm—it wasn't meant as a weapon—and Sharded made a variety of squeaky, gasping noises, but seemed unable to form proper speech.

"Whatcha think, rat-boy? Should I gut you? Put a hole in your belly and turn you inside-out?" he asked, grinning down at the pinned rodent. "I really oughta kill you, you Goddamn bastard. Fucking killed Cain, me, God knows how many others...then you have the gall to say you're not sorry over a damn one of them...fuck! You've got spine, I'll give you that much, to admit that to my face. But it was not the fucking smart thing to do. Y'see, I might be inclined to actually let you live...but there's one little detail. You made X miserable. You had a habit of ruining his life for sport. I don't care if you've been fucking reborn as the next _Jesus Christ_, you are going to die for that." He leaned all his weight onto the leg that was slowly crushing into the rat's middle, and Sharded gasped and thrashed,—though it seemed more like a convulsion—clawing at Zero's legs with useless paws. While he did succeed in turning Zero's pantleg into ribbons, nothing else had been achieved when the blonde drove his boot down straight through the rat's metal body, and the reploid gurgled thickly, blood gushing from his throat, eyes bulging. X could only watch, and he wasn't sure if he was horified at the way Sharded spasmed and vomited blood moments before going still, or just...he couldn't really say. That reploid had, as Zero said, ruined his life twice. First by killing Cain, his adoptive father-figure—then by killing Zero. ...he couldn't really say he was upset that Zero had destroyed the reploid. Sharded had gone on about his second chance, but if he wasn't sorry about killing all those people, how could he truly want to start over? Only contempt had spurred him to dislike his actions in the past. That was no second beginning. That was just chosing a new way to hate.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Zero asked, and X nodded. "The Mav generals are friends, sure, but they might not be too pleased I killed Sharded—though, I think, if they knew that he'd been the one to kill me, they wouldn't care so much—and, besides that...well...I'm getting tired of wandering around underground."

"Yeah," the Blue agreed, looking around. "I'm sure Bass is getting annoyed with us for being gone so long, anyway." Zero chuckled.

"Do you remember which way the exit was?" the blonde asked

"No idea."

"Oh. Well...I guess we'll just have to find our own way out," and then the Red blinked in mild confusion, looking up and around a few times. "...what...?" X tilted his head in confusion, as Zero shook himself sharply. "Meh...that was weird." And then he wandered out of the room, X following him, baffled.

"What was weird?" the Blue questioned, and Zero shrugged, looking about for signs of an exit. Instead, he spotted Boomer, who was apparently absorbed with some business of his own, not noticing the pair as they approached.

"Hey Boom, mind showing us the way outta here? Visiting's nice and all, but, well, we kinda left somebody waiting, and he's sure to wonder where the Hell we've vanished," Zero said, and the somewhat insectoid reploid gave them a long look, maybe slightly suspicious—probably over Sharded's dissappearance, heh—before shrugging and poiting wordlessly up one hallway. Boomer had never been all too talkative. "Thanks, see yah."

* * *

It was the strangest encounter either had ever had, and that was saying something, considering who they both were. A manipulator, a devil. Wheruvan tilted his head curiously, pushing some blue-dyed hair out of his red eyes with his good hand, and the other snorted.

"You knew you'd run into me again, no use looking so surprised," the devil muttered, concentrating hard to keep his speech in proper order. His aqua eyes flashed with that concentration, making him look even more wicked than usual. "It's...not...a...big...deal..." Damn, was it difficult to talk straight. But then, he had been rather ruined from that incident. He was surprised there was still enough of him left to keep this shell of a body moving.

"Well, I'd say it _is_," Wheruvan replied simply. "Since I have no doubt that you're going to interfere with my business, won't you...?" The devil chuckled, a discordant sound that made Wheruvan's head hurt. He grimaced in annoyance; too much like his father, this one was.

"You know my name," the horned creature snickered, tail lashing. "But if you're really so squeamish, call me by the old one. I've gone by it long enough that it's a good enough substitute." Truly it was, since Zero had called him by it for so long. X, too. Now there was an interesting thought.

"So what's your job this time?" Wheruvan asked curiously. "I would've thought you'd vanish, after your father's...death, of a sort." The demon-creature snorted and shook his head, rolling his eyes at the thought.

"One, he's not dead in the least, and two, I'm too stubborn to simply vanish," he smirked wickedly, and Wheruvan took a step farther away. Much, much too similar to his father. "Tenacity runs in the family, such as it is. And my job's the same as ever; find some unfortunate fellow and make their life a living Hell. I already know who I've picked..."

"You know that Blues has reserved Zero for his personal vendetta," Wheruvan warned, and the demon shrugged uncaringly, tossing his head and grimacing when his hair became tangled around the horns. Poor design management, really. If only he hadn't had so few choices, he'd be in much better shape right now than stuck in this...thing. How pathetic.

"I don't give a shit what Blues is doing," he growled, baring jagged teeth. "I'm done with Zero altogether; he's more trouble than he's worth. It was fun while it lasted, I must admit, but even I'm not bull-headed enough to try and subdue him a _third_ time."

"Well, then, who will you haunt now?" Wheruvan questioned idly, while considering how to get away from here without catching too much of this creature's interest. "You know where _my_ interests lie, so do not think you can interefere with _that_..."

"Would never dream of it," the devil replied. "In fact, I was hoping you might...assist me, some. I'm still in a rather poor state after that little stunt I pulled to put Father out of commission. Maverick's one tough customer."

"Of course," Wheruvan replied with a nod. "I've already known that. I still don't quite understand why you attacked your father that way, but then, I suppose I'd have to understand you yourself, first, eh, Bloodrush?" The newest incarnation of the age-old possesser, the wretched thing which had driven Zero into madness and used Zcix like a tool, the thing which had been, in some convoluted fashion, spawned because of Maverick, laughed. It was a chilling sound, bleak and bloody, reflecting what Bloodrush really was.

"Why don't you call me by real name anyway? It's just a name, there shouldn't be any fear for you in it. You would call Father by name, after all, and he was a bit more vicious than I was," the beastial thing suggested, or more threatened. "I've changed my mind, I'm sick of that old title. Father gave it to me, after all, to remind himself that I'd changed sides. Not that it did him any good." Wheruvan swallowed, then nodded. He was stuck now, but then, calling Bloodrush by his true name didn't bother him as much as he pretended. He was just nervous that the creature might decide that meant he was allowed to call Wheruvan by his old name, his real one, and that wouldn't be quite so pleasant.

"Fine, Origin. Whatever you say," he muttered, and the demon laughed with wicked triumph. "And I don't think I'm too inclined to help you now. I think you can understand my reluctance." Origin's eyes glittered maliciously as a grin spread across his face, twisting those features until Wheruvan thought he could get a glimpse at what was really there, what really possessed that shell of a body that had been no more than an incomplete reploid Wily had been working on before he was killed. The thing had never been finished, but Origin had fixed that. Sloppily, somewhat.

"Ah, but you see, if you don't decide to help me out now that I'm just slightly incapacitated..." he was suddenly standing beside the pale creature who he'd known for such a long time, and if you looked in his eyes, you would see what was there. Would see the beast that had been created ages ago, all thanks to Maverick. "...I might decide not to be so _friendly_, hm? I might decide to just _push_ a little bit, hm? Get a little more _bossy?_ Do you want me to call up the old issue, Heskitcha?" Wheruvan flinched and drew away, but Origin snatched him, grabbing the collar of his thick cloak. "No, you're not going to run this time, Hes. Don't forget that you're _mine_ in the end, because _I'm_ the one who made you."

"Maverick was—" Wheruvan, the creature named Heskitcha by birth, tried, but was quickly thrown to the ground.

"Maverick did not _make_ me!" Origin nearly howled, enraged. "He was only the _reason_ I was made! I was created to kill him, you know that, damn you! Just because I accepted his proposal of the tie, just because they called me the Maverick's Spawn, the Origin of Secondary, doesn't mean he _made_ me or _owned_ me. Not like I own you. Remember, Heskitcha...I'm the one who knows how you die." Wheruvan trembled weakly, shaking his head furiously against the idea. The albino was a difficult person to upset, but then, he was used to dealing with creatures who were so far below himself, being frightened of them would be like a man being frightened by a colony of ants. Even if some of those ants are dangerous, it simply doesn't make since to be afraid of the lot of them.

"Quit calling me that," Wheruvan finally hissed out. "Heskitcha...is long gone." Origin burst into wild laughter, before dragging the albino up off the ground.

"She's still right here," he growled, shaking the man. "Even if you've tried your best to deny the _real_ you." Wheruvan frowned but said nothing, not bothering to argue any longer. Origin knew the truth to well; he wouldn't just let Wheruvan forget about that manipulative bitch Heskitcha. "That's why we're both fucking _freaks_, so we're perfect to help each other out." Wheruvan just grimaced at him bitterly.


End file.
